


It must’ve been the wind, it’s gotta be the wind. It’s always “the wind”.

by Birdy_f



Category: Original Work
Genre: :), Based on Wind by Alec Benjamin, F/M, Song Lyrics, wrote this instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdy_f/pseuds/Birdy_f
Relationships: Henry & Honey





	It must’ve been the wind, it’s gotta be the wind. It’s always “the wind”.

Henry woke to a loud bang. His shitty apartment didn’t really keep much noise out but his neighbour were never this loud so he ignored it in favour of falling back into his sweet slumber.

But, it seemed, that wasn’t so easy as another bang and a lid crash soon followed.

Henry growled in anger, all he wanted was to sleep. Was it too much to ask for the banging to stop? For the crashing to -

He was cut off from his thoughts at the sound of soft cry’s. The ones you would hear when someone was in pain. The helpless cry of a young female.

Henry thought that he was mad, he felt betrayed that his body lead him up to the second floor, his feet tapping out a soft rhythm on the elevator floor. He wanted his bed, but that cry was drawing him away.

Henry followed that cry. A whisper that he couldn’t hear was drawing him closer to door number 4.

He sucked in a deep breath and rapped onto the rusty red door, his fist knocking away at the chipped wood. He brushed his knuckles on the back of his jeans just as the door opened to reveal a girl not much older than him.

Honey gold hair and skin so smooth that she looked like a model for those shampoo adverts he sees whilst watching his YouTube video. She was in a short dress- to short for any girl- and her face was a wreck of running mascara and smudged foundation.

But a hidden beauty was there. Beneath all of the makeup was a delicate petal from the sweetest of flowers.

She was amazing, breath taking if he said so- and he did, just not out loud.

“Can I help you?” She asked, her voice soft and sweet. She brushed her fine hair away from her eyes and Henry recovered from his internal silence with a sheepish smile.

He asked about the things he’d been hearing, rubbing a hand up and down the worn sleeve of his hoodie.

She chuckled. “I think your ears are playing tricks on you.” She wiped at her eyes said he hadn’t seen the ruined makeup and shrugged. “I’m home alone, nothing much going on here.”

Henry didn’t believe her but he shrugged and asked if she needed anything.

“Thanks for caring, sir. That’s nice of you, but I have to go back in.” She stepped back, the door almost closed, blocking his view of both her and her apartment.

“Wish I could tell you bout that noise, but I didn’t hear a thing.” She gasped and followed up with, “must have been the wind, it must have been the wind. Must have been the wind.”

Henry couldn’t find a reason for her repetition, but he didn’t press her. He nodded, “Sure, it must have been the wind.”

Nothing happened for the rest of the week, he listened and looked out for any sign of life; but her apartment was silent. The honey blonde was no where in his sights.

But then a glass smashed against his ceiling,  her floor.

At first he though he was dreaming. She wasn’t home, was she?

But then he heard the voice of the girl and it sounded like she had been crying. He paced about his room, what was he meant to do?

He was worried, perplexed. He was all those synonymous for worried that some writer would use.

He wanted to make sure she was okay, so he headed up. Fingers tapping against the glass of the elevator mirror, his heart and soul willing for the second floor to come sooner and not be so far away-WHY WAS THIS TAKING SO LONG!

Once the doors opened, he slid door the hallway; cozy socks sliding against the tiles of the apartment complex. He knocked against the rusty red door again and counted down the second until she opened it.

Once she opened up, a surprised expression at the extent of his worried face, and he asked what he just heard.

“Your ears must be playing trick on you,” she zipped her sweater up to her neck. “You sure you don’t need hearing aids?”

She giggled and he barely laughed, just a breath exhaled from his nostrils. She grinned awkwardly into the silence before it grew bigger, thicker and more suffocating.

“Thanks for caring, it’s really kind of you. But it must’ve been the wind. Yeah. The wind.”

Henry went to interrupt her again but she beat him to it. “I have to go back in. I really wish I could tell you bout the noise you’ve heard; but I didn’t hear a thing. Ask someone else, my best guess is the wind.”

“The wind?”

“It must’ve been the wind, must have been the wind, must have been the wind.” 

She grinned, the nameless girl looked awkward yet beautiful in this difficult position he put her in. Sheepish yet unashamed.

She said, "It must have been the wind, must have been the wind. Must have been the wind, it must have been the wind"

He was lying in his floor, the third time he heard it. The cold concrete in his bare back.

He could shake the feeling that something was amidst. But he couldn’t intrude; it just wasn’t his place. He didn’t have all the facts, yet some nagging part of him urged him to check up on her.

She wasn’t there but the paint was more chipped, the wood even cracked with splinters and missing pieces. The bark was scratched and a heavy metallic smell wafted up his nose when he meant in closer.

Cry we’re coming from inside, Henry found it a wonder how nobody had actually tried to check up on her- at least that’s what he summed up since nobody was here with him.

She sounded broken, a wreck who wanted love yet sounded like she had enough. She sounded like she needed a friend, so that’s what he’d be.

So he brought her ice cream, mint and vanilla. Henry left roses of pink and red on her door step. He sent her small boxes of chocolate with notes that read: From your wind buddy. Or notes that read: Love from your neighbour.

She didn’t send anything back, he wasn’t sure she ever got them; but he never gave up.

One night he was in the roof of their apartment block, two stories high up in the dark night sky.

He aimed his boombox close down to her window, his sweater and coat slowly slipping down and covering his numb hands as “Lean on Me” played loudly into the busy streets of Brooklyn.

He played it just so she knew she could lean on him. And when she hears the words, he begged she knows that she’ll get better- that she’ll be okay.

He aimed it closer, “Lean on Me” playing louder over the sound of the cars and hustle of people.

She needed to know that she could lean on him; and that when she was ready, he’d know what he’d say.

“I promise I’m not playing tricks on you. You’re always welcome to come to me. Maybe stay with me for an hour or two- if you ever need a friend.   
  
“Grab some ice cream and talk about that noise, only when you’re ready, but until then it’ll always be the wind.”

A deep breath as he saw her bedroom light switch off, leaving Henry in the darkness of the midnight sky.

“It must have been the wind, it’s gotta be the wind, it’s always the wind.

  
“It must have been the wind, must have been the wind. Must have been “the wind”.”


End file.
